Downstairs Disturbance
by Robin Pendragon
Summary: I can't believe I'm doing this. A fanfic about a fanfic. A fanfic about a Twilight fanfic. Yet here it is. Be warned, this is not for the fans. OC. Maybe ongoing, maybe not.


**DISCLAIMER: Before you read on, if you're expecting smut, move on. Also, know that I am _not_ a fan of the book series 50 shades of grey. This isn't an ode to the couple in question. It's more of a parody, or an anti-series if you will. **

**I was forced to read the first book and I couldn't really get my mind off the fact I wanted it to end like that, at the first book. I was almost forced to continue reading, but didn't get through the first few chapters of the second one. I couldn't. I can't stand the fact that Anastasia stays with Christian Grey. I wanted her to move on to someone better, not fucked up, and more than anything I wanted depth to her character. Something more than just she likes to drink tea and British literature. In my mind, she grows the fuck up, realizes she deserves better just because of reasons, grows some balls and leaves him forever. Meanwhile, he'd continue therapy, get better, and find some nice young woman who's not afraid to tell him when he needs to shut the fuck up, in a healthy way. Alas, I was left unsatisfied.**

**As many fans, I was at first taken in by the character of Mr. Grey. As a psychology student, I was drawn to his story, to what makes him so fucked up and how he could be helped. He was well developed, in my opinion. But there was something missing. Especially to how and why Anastasia would stay with him. Surely a psychologically healthy woman would cry for a week, get closer to her family and friends, and then move on. Anyway, this isn't meant to be a book review and here I went there huh? **

**This is how I wish the story had continued. A fanfic about a Twilight fanfic. Ha! Adding my own OC, bitches. Sorry if I get the names wrong, it's been a while since I read it and a while since I started this entry, I just kinda wanted to finish it and move on to my other fic Black Doctor.**

* * *

Stella Jones Kofford, 28 year old college dropout. The only two facts he knew about his inexplicably well-established downstairs "neighbor", if one should call a person whom one has never met before a neighbor.

In the duration she had occupied Escala, he was not once graced with a 'Hello', or a 'Good evening,' in return for his polite greetings the random few times they'd crossed paths in the lobby of the building. Not once. The young woman, well, slightly older than he but only by a year or so, liked to keep to herself. He understood and respected that, he truly did. But this day nothing would give him more pleasure than to have his peace and quiet restored. Two freedoms that she was currently robbing him of.

"What, is she hosting a concert down there?!" he demanded of Taylor, undeservedly harsh. The older male understood. After all, his employer had never been so invested in someone in the years he had known him than the woman he had recently lost, due to his own behavior. He empathized, to a degree, but he was not in the position to dish out unsolicited advice. Especially when the noise that was currently bothering Mr. Grey so much could be defined as a mere scratching sound in the piano room.

Still, he knew what he had to do. After the elevator led them to the entrance of the penthouse, Taylor was to make his way down to the residence directly below, to respectfully request of the young Miss Jones to keep the noise down. After all, in a building such as this, one would have to go out of their way to create that much of a disturbance, literally. Even though it was just a scratching noise.

However, when they arrived, he was met with a surprise. "Actually, I will sort this out myself."

Taylor almost raised a brow and tensed a bit. Yes, Christian Grey liked to deal with things himself, to keep as much control as possible, that was not odd. But in his current state of mind Taylor doubted whether Christian would quite be himself. In fact he'd been somewhat short with those around him since Anastasia's departure. Even after visiting Elena.

He took a deep breath and watched Christian leave, following immediately only to be stopped by a brief shaking of the head and blink of the eyes. Taylor watched as Christian readjusted his collar and relaxed his hands before him, the elevator doors closed and Taylor was left hoping he would not upset the young woman too much.

Unlike Christian, Taylor had had very good interactions with Stella. She'd insisted he called her Stella. And she had a short temper, from what he could tell in his brief assessments of her. He'd had the displeasure of observing such a display of temper outbursts in the lobby late last year. She had engaged in an argument with what appeared to be a mail courier. The young woman was definitely not afraid to be uncouth, and those eyes could cut deep, they could 'burn right through your soul,' he'd been told later by the same courier, jokingly, as he explained the incident which seemed to be his fault. But Taylor liked her nonetheless.

The closer the elevator took him, the more uneasy Christian became. Why was he wasting his time? He should be engrossed in his business, or thinking of ways to get Ana back. He _had_ to get her back. Thinking about her even for a second made the pain in his chest escalate. He'd thought of nothing else in fact. But no, he had to be clear in his resolve. She walked out, and that meant she did not want anything to do with him. She deserved better, and he could not give her that.

He walked out of the elevator and toward the front entrance to ring the doorbell. He tried but once before he lost his temper and tried the door, finding it open.

Miss Jones' foyer was all black tile, as far as he could see. No art on the dark walls and no light to lead him anywhere. At the other end of the foyer there was short flight of stairs leading down, spiraling, the single railing curved with the stairs and ended with a Greek column, also black, atop which sat a black vase that held purple flowers. Orchids. The only light that guided him was the small purple lighting that seemed to emanate from the edges of each of the steps. It was a wonder how anybody could see here, but there were people in the residence. He could hear music, and not the type of music he usually listened to to calm his nerves.

The room the stairs led him to, possibly the living room, was nearly empty of furniture. White tile from wall to wall. A wet bar lined one side of the room and curved to extend to the adjacent wall. Large portraits of women in corsets with pale skin and red lips, roses on their hair adorned the walls. Some of the artwork was unsettling to him, nude women in chains with dark creatures looming over them, dragons and demons, and another of a mermaid underneath the sea in a dark cave. She had a large portrait of _The Scream_, or rather a very realistic version of it. Upon looking for a second longer he realized that was because it was not a portrait, it was a pixelated picture, enlarged, and the model's face had been thwarted to look like the famous painting.

He could clearly see where the noise was coming from.

Indeed, Miss Jones seemed to be hosting a concert of sorts. At the end of the room facing in his direction stood a stage, bass guitar, drum set, keyboard, microphone, and an amp. The source, no doubt, of the burdensome scratching.

As he made to step off the last black stair and onto the white tile a tall skinny blonde with red lips and a tight fitting black knee-length dress hurried in his direction. Her straight hair tied up in a tight pony tail that fell down to the base of her neck. Her black heels the only disturbance upon the tile as she rushed to his side, a clipboard in her hands and confusion in her eyes.

"I'm sorry, are you expected?" she held out her hand to stop him stepping off the last step.

The hand was what surprised him. Without even touching him she had been successful in stopping him from even going into the room.

"No. I am here to see Miss Jones-"

"Stella is working at the moment, and she is not accepting visitors. You can leave a message with me if you'd like."

_Working?_ She was listening to music! This was getting him nowhere, and did nothing to pacify Christian's annoyance. Especially when he glanced over the head of the blonde and saw the woman in question standing in the room. He knew that was her by the black waves down her back and the clunky leather boots. She was far enough away that she didn't notice him, looking toward the stage, her back to the entrance and her arms crossed.

The individuals on the stage seemed to be playing for her and a small handful of other people. All white makeup, black lips, wigs, and dressed in dark apparel, the type Christian might see in some of the 'clubs' he used to frequent, only much less scandalous. The small group sitting down and taking notes reminded the man of a group of critics huddled around pointing at small flaws here and there, occasionally getting up and whispering things to Stella. She'd nod here and there, and they'd sit back down. Stella signaled for the band to stop by holding up her hand.

He used the opportunity to walk past the blonde and toward the stage, saying a quick "Excuse me," to the woman whose tapping of the heels was now following him quickly across the room.

"Miss Stella Jones," he began, flashing his most courteous smile. She turned her head toward him, raising one eyebrow at him and then directing her cold glare at the blonde who'd followed him for a second before shaking her head and sighing in frustration.

"I'm sorry Stella, he just stormed in-"

Christian raised his eyebrows at the use of the word 'stormed' and was about to clarify and explain his purpose when Stella shook her head. "That's fine," she directed at the blonde, glancing back toward the band and holding up her hand. "Take five."

The individuals set their instruments down and someone in a short t-shirt and headset approached to give them bottles of water.

"Miss Jones, I am Christian Grey," he started, holding out his hand.

She shook her head and gave him a lopsided smile, "I know who you are Mr. Grey, save yourself the introduction. I hate to be rude but you are interrupting a very important meeting, not to mention making my band distracted. I'll have to do some serious damage control because of the ruckus you are creating."

_Was she serious?_ The ruckus_ he_ was creating? Was this possibly just her way of flirting? He was speechless for a second or so, blinking to try to comprehend what she had just said.

He shook his head and chuckled. "Please, we got off on the wrong foot here. I am simply here to inform you, respectfully, that your work is interrupting mine, and to ask you kindly if it might be possible to turn it down a notch."

She sighed, lowering her shoulders in a defeated manner, shaking her head and tilting it sideways. "Very well," she turned to her assistant, who was standing wide eyed at the exchange, "Bianca please prepare an NDA for Mr. Grey. That's Christian Grey with an 'e'. And bring us refreshments. I'll have my usual. Mr. Grey?"

Again, he was surprised. The very acronym brought back memories he'd rather not be pained with when conducting business. "No, thank you, I-" he started, only to watch her turn around and direct her attention to the group of individuals sitting down, taking a look at their notes, appearing to think about it, then handing them their clipboards back and moving on the other one. Christian followed.

"I was saying that..." he sighed, "your work is interrupting mine."

"What do you do Mr. Grey?" she asked without looking up. Bianca came back with two drinks, one for Stella- something that looked like a bloody Mary- and a tall glass of water for Christian despite his earlier refusal. He took it hesitantly and smiled a thank you before she scurried away.

"I'm sorry?"

"Your work that I so rudely interrupted. What is it?" she asked casually, taking a sip of her beverage and flipping a page on a clipboard, the owner of it holding it for her. She nodded and moved on to the next person.

"I don't see how that matters Miss Jones. The fact remains, your work can be heard all the way upstairs. And that is saying something."

She turned to him and smiled.

"You're right. Except that I have been working from home three times weekly for the past few years and this is the first time that you've ever complained. It's not my business of course, I was simply wondering what you could possibly be doing that is so sensitive to what I assume can't sound louder than a scratch. These walls are built thick you know," she smiled again and took another sip of her drink.

She was right of course. No louder than a scratch. And it was possibly he who was being sensitive, and perhaps overreacting.

He decided to take a different tack.

"Do you always drink on the job?" he asked, watching her empty her glass and roll an olive in her tongue, spitting the seed back into the empty glass.

"This is what us common folk call a clamato, Mr. Grey. I don't drink." She handed the empty glass to Bianca, who'd appeared out of nowhere to take the empty glass and hand Christian a clipboard.

"My work involves music as you can see. Part of my job is to manage this band. They're up and comers. You've interrupted a practice session and in doing so you've taken an early listen to my band's new music. This is stuff that's never been heard before, so I have to ask you to sign that. It's for the welfare of my band. This stuff gets leaked earlier than intended and the recording company won't be too happy with me. Sales will drop, careers will end before they begin, bad things will happen and nobody wants that. So if you don't cooperate and sign that I might just have to make you."

Christian's ears perked up and he felt a tiny jolt in his chest. The way she spoke and seemed to be in perfect control of everything, reminded him of himself in a way. She liked to dominate.

He didn't like that.

She took note of this and added, "I don't mean that in a flirtatious way. You technically trespassed into my property, so I will take legal action if you don't sign that."

"You're not flirting with me, you are blackmailing me," he raised an eyebrow.

She shrugged, smiling at him, giving the last clipboard back to its owner. She set her hands on her hips and finally turned her full attention on him.

"I'm just doing my job Mr. Grey. That includes protecting the band's intellectual property. You're a business-savvy man, I'm sure you understand."

That was the first time he had really taken a good look at her. Pale skin, dark hair, large angry blue eyes, medium height, average built. Given their previous interactions he was surprised she even knew his name.

She glanced toward a set of couches in an adjacent room separated by glass windows. If he wasn't mistaken that was a soundproof room. "If you wish to look that over before you sign it, I'll ask you to have a seat in that room over there. It's mostly soundproof. You'll find writing utensils and such in there. Please, Bianca will lead the way."

The blonde from before rushed to their side. "This way please."

Christian was hesitant to follow, not accustomed to being told what to do. Then again he'd been getting himself involved in many things he was not accustomed to do recently.

"Have a seat," Bianca directed, "take your time with the document. Ms. Jones is very particular about the wording of these things. She wants you to know what you're signing. Let me know if you need anything at all. If you have any questions you may direct them to her afterward. The session should be over shortly. Can I bring you anything to drink?" She asked, despite the fact that he still had in his hand the beverage from before.

"No, thank you."

She smiled and left the room, leaving Christian alone with the clipboard in his hand, staring out the window wondering what the hell he was doing.

Once he was out of sight Stella went right back to work. She seemed stressed and rushed, and kept looking at her watch almost every five minutes. He could see all this through the window, though he could not hear except for vague sounds of music that managed to make their way into the mostly soundproof room. He wondered if Stella often brought her work home, and if that is why she needed soundproof walls. He doubted her reasons for them would be similar to his, but one could not judge.

He began to read the document, barely glancing at it when he began to think of _her_ again. Not like he had managed to not think about her for one second since she'd gone. On the contrary, his chest ached, his throat felt like he could rip it to shreds, and he could not focus on work at all. He decided he'd have his lawyer look over the document and he would just have to ask Miss Stella to wait. Unless...

He took out his phone and took a photo of each page, sending them over to his lawyer requesting she look it over carefully and inform him of any loopholes or such. He quickly got the message back to confirm the images had been received and she would be looking them over immediately, for him not to sign anything until she gave the go ahead.

Then he waited.

He looked around the small waiting area he sat in, trying to focus on the details. The fabric couches were comfortable enough to sit on, but very low to the ground. One of them was especially dirty. He had to wonder how often Stella's cleaners cleaned, then reprimanded himself for being judgmental. There was also a small round plastic coffee table, very low to the ground. He noticed the television on the wall, and a small oddly shaped bookcase beneath it, which held multicolored plastic boxes on it. It looked very juvenile, if he was being honest. An odd design for a woman who kept dragons and nude paintings in her living room walls.

He was quickly becoming bored, and restless. He was thinking of emailing or calling Ana when the music stopped. He looked up to see a small child running across the room, from the flight of stairs and straight to Stella's legs. Stella's demeanor changed completely. Stella bent down to meet the child's embrace, picked him up and kissed him on both cheeks. She was smiling. She turned to say something to the band and they began to pack their things.

Christian began to feel more uncomfortable. He didn't particularly feel comfortable in the sitting area, much less so with the addition of a child in close proximity. As he took another glance around the room he put things together. The lack of sharp corners, the low furniture, soundproof walls.

This room was meant for children.

He got up and readjusted his coat, cleared his throat, and stepped out into the hallway. From where he stood he could hear parts of a conversation going on between Stella and the young child, who she now carried on her hip.

"...and there were dragons and dinosaurs and daddy let me ride one of them!"

Stella feigned being impressed, "Oh really? Well I can't wait to see the pictures-" she stopped talking to glance over at Christian, who was approaching slowly, step by step. All except one band member took their belongings and began to make their way across the room, blocking Christian's trek over to Stella, waving briefly at him, though one gave him a look of annoyance. One stayed behind, taking his time putting the things away. Before Christian could continue making his way to the woman who practically held him hostage, another man approached from the direction of the stairs. He had slicked back black hair, sharp blue eyes, and facial hair trimmed in a fancy design. He wore a black suit that Christian had to admit was very trendy indeed. He exuded confidence, much like Christian did.

Christian was far enough away still that the man did not notice him at first. He walked up to Stella, and Christian did not miss the look they gave each other. There was a certain animosity between the two, tension that one could cut with a knife. Divorced, Christian guessed.

The man was smiling what appeared to be a forced smile, and he set down the small child's suitcase that he carried. They had a brief conversation, then the child kissed the man's cheek before Stella handed him to Bianca, who took him away into a different hallway.

Christian looked over and noticed the other man, the last band member was still hanging about. They made eye contact and the band member glanced over at the new man, signaling toward him, silently trying to communicate something to Christian that he did not quite get.

The band member rolled his eyes and signaled for Christian to head toward him, which he did.

"Just hang out here til he leaves," he told Christian.

"Why?"

"Because. They have a history of problems, man."

"Who is that?"

"Her ex-husband. Obviously,"

"Hm," Christian glanced at the man, his hands in his pockets. "Sorry, I'm Christian Grey,"

"Dylan," they shook hands, Dylan only glanced at Christian, his eyes on the couple in the middle of the room deep in conversation.

"So... why are you hanging out?"

Dylan shrugged, "Just hoping I could get a chance to talk to her before I leave. About the band. But she doesn't like to do business with her kid here."

"If I am understanding correctly, the child is theirs, and they are divorced, an unpleasant divorce at that."

"That's right. That's her business, I don't get in all of that. I just hang out til he leaves, make sure she's safe and stuff."

Christian nodded. One could after all, deduce a lot from the subtext of those words.

"He has a temper then?"

"She does too."

Christian could tell by their body language that they were both doing the best they could to contain said tempers. The problem was, they didn't seem to be off to a good start.

The man threw up his hands, shook his head, and began to walk off while Stella was still talking. She was clearly frustrated, but remained in her spot until he left up the stairs, and at the distance the front door was slammed shut.

Seconds after the man left Stella turned around to acknowledge Bianca, who had come back without the toddler. "He's playing with his dinosaurs," she explained. Stella nodded. "I'll be there in just a few minutes," she said, almost apologetically. Bianca nodded and took off. Stella then returned her attention to the other two men in the room.

"Dylan, sorry about that,"

"It's all good Miss Jones, I can chat with you about it later,"

"You sure you wouldn't mind?"

"Nah," Dylan put his backpack on and took his guitar case. "I'll see ya next time," he waved, then turning to Christian, "Nice to meet you man," he made a sign with his hand that Christian did not understand, but he acknowledged the man with a nod of the head and readjusted his coat as he returned his attention to Stella.

"Now can we talk about that noise?"

"What noise?" Stella offered a smile, "As far as I can hear, there are no noises here."

"Perhaps not now, but they will return on a different day and I expect-"

"Mommy! I'm hungry..." the interrupting cries were heard and the little footsteps soon followed, slamming on the tile down the hall toward them. The child stopped running when he saw Christian, and set a finger in his mouth assessing the new male. Stella bent down to rest her hands on her knees, to be at the child's level.

"Chris, this man is our neighbor from upstairs. What do we say when we meet new people?"

Christian forced a smile. The child looked up at him with wide gray eyes, dark hair, and mistrust. Christian could see the resemblance to the man who had just left.

"Hello," the child mumbled.

"Hello and what?"

"Hello, my name is Christopher."

"Good job," Stella smiled at the boy and set a hand on his shoulder, bringing him closer to her as the boy stood there glancing up at Christian. They made him uncomfortable, the child's eyes. He couldn't be older than four.

"Perhaps we could discuss this at a later time? I have to make dinner for my son."

Christian was about to protest, before he processed her words. He instead nodded and smiled curtly. "Of course. Sorry to have troubled you." He excused himself and walked away, toward the staircase. As he was about to walk upstairs, Stella's voice stopped him.

"Mr. Grey?"

He turned around. "I still expect that NDA, signed and at my doorstep by tomorrow morning."

She smiled, and this time he returned it, before walking away, upstairs and out the door, back inside the cave of his own soundproof walls that was his inner darkness.


End file.
